


Ridding the Wave

by Arithanas



Category: The Bletchley Circle
Genre: F/F, Long Hair, the blitz as background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: With Enigma down and half the personal out of Bletchley part, Millie and Jean tried something new.
Relationships: Millie Harcourt/Jean McBrian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Ridding the Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [koboldspucke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koboldspucke/gifts).



Enigma ran into a spot of trouble and it was all hands on deck to get it running again. Engineers and technicians, scrounging and scavenging pieces of spare metal, were working hard, but at least two days for repairs seemed unavoidable and half of the code breakers were granted leave out of the grounds.

Millie Harcourt, such was her luck, was to stay in Bletchley Park in case Enigma got its bearings sorted. Free days without a chap to idle away the time with were dull and there were only so many beauty tricks one could try to avoid boredom. The far-from-comforting prospect of spending a day laying on a bed, smoking, and reading Susan’s magazines disgusted Millie.

The first sundown came and with it the dreaded blackout. Millie put the blackout screen against the frame of their little window with a heavy sigh that proclaimed to the world her boredom. Letting fear permeate her view of the world was the worst mistake to make in times of uncertainty. Dread’s caresses were a down payment on Death Millie refused to pay.

Under the dim light of her over-bed lamp, Millie undressed down to her slip and sat down to undo the straps of her sensible black shoes. She inspected them for scuffs, but they still looked good enough. She looked around and the neatly made beds and nostalgia hit her. She missed her quiet companions in a way she didn’t expect. She might have burst into tears, but a soft knock on the door made her fix her stiff upper lip and carry on.

Millie answered the call with a robe tied sloppily around her waist. At her door, carrying a tray with a couple of teacups and a kettle covered with a knitted cozy stood Jean McBrian. Millie smiled at her supervisor and stepped aside to let Jean in.

“Bletchley Park is as quiet as a graveyard,” Jean commented and put the tray on top of that rickety table in the middle of the room. “I can’t sleep without a nice cup of tea.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Jean shrugged and poured the tea. Millie sat across from her, and they shared Jean’s tea and Millie’s biscuits. Small, polite chat flowed between them. They talked about Enigma, about the blackout, about the silence. By the second cup, Millie was sure Jean didn’t want to be alone in her room. The conversation moved to movies, to frivolities, to hair…

Millie was never sure how it happened, but Jean allowed her to untie the severe bun at the back of her head and a cascade of luscious, healthy black hair came tumbling down across Jean's shoulders. Even under the bad light of this small room, Jean’s hair was a thing of beauty.

“It’s such a shame you never let it shine,” Millie commented, passing the brush over the strands.

“A woman’s hair is her glory and only for her husband to behold,” Jean recited between sips of her tea. “And a husband never happened upon me. Not that I’m keen to have one, but I have never thought of styling it just for the fun of it.”

Millie took a step away and looked at Jean. Jean, strict matronly Jean, with her hair down, stripped from her armor, looked her age and not a single day more. A woman, full of ripe femininity, looked at Millie with serene eyes. Jean’s lips, kissed by the hot tea, looked plumper, inviting...

Millie smiled at Jean and Jean smiled back. Without a word, Millie used her fingers to divide that long, black hair. The strands made a soft wave over Jean’s usually severe brow. Curling Jean’s hair made Millie shiver with the delicious sensation many a lad had roused in her flesh. Bobby pins held a curl of hair over Jean’s ear, and Millie marveled at the curve of Jean’s face. Healthy, firm skin covered a rosy cheek. Millie took a step back and looked at the results, Jean’s hair was only half-done, but she looked younger, like Janet Gaynor in full bloom.

Millie, always sensible to beauty, couldn’t help herself. She bent at the waist and put a delicate kiss on Jean’s cheek, very close to the corner of Jean’s mouth. Jean went stiff for a second and Millie steeled herself against rejection, but Jean cast her eyes down and touched the spot as a bit of red crept up up Jean’s face. Millie stepped closer and picked up another lock to curl around her fingers.

By the time Millie finished twisting, pinning, and fixing curls, Jean’s hair was a crown fit for a queen. With pride, Millie put a mirror on the table and rested her chin on Jean’s shoulder. Jean’s lips formed a small “o” like a button when she looked at the way her appearance had changed under Millie’s fingers.

“A woman’s hair is her glory,” Millie repeated and let her fingers caress Jean’s temple along with her hairline.

Jean’s lip parted, probably to correct Millie’s understanding of the quote. Millie slid her hand under Jean’s chin and her thumb caressed Jean’s quivering lip. Jean took Millie’s hand and got up from her chair.

Millie stood tall and looked at Jean, waiting for a harsh word, for a disapproving look. It never came. The rumbled vibrations of a wing of Arados overhead made them rush to each other’s arms. The vibration was so intense that one of Jean’s cups rolled on the table and crashed against the floor without noise.

Millie’s first thought was that Enigma’s malfunction was sabotage, and they had been discovered. Her second thought, a more powerful one, was that she refused to leave this vale of tears without kissing Jean’s lips.

Jean let her lock her in a sweet embrace and her hand roamed over Millie’s leg, turning her into a mess of lustful shivers and fear. Millie undid Jean’s jacket and her hand, even more adventurous, slid inside to cup Jean’s breast. The short moment of terror passed over their heads, but desire remained…

That night, Millie pulled Jean to her bed and clothes fell to the ground in a trail. Jean proved to be a lady of imagination and many resources. Millie trembled under the sweet ministration of her fingers, roaming about a wet quim eager to meet pleasure. Millie's lipstick decorated Jean’s aureoles, and her fingers clutched Jean’s back with a passion. In the rush of desire, with her knee firmly pressed between the legs of Jean’s wet combination, Millie let fingers run through Jean’s hair. Bobby pins snapped and showered her…

Languorously, Jean rested against Millie’s chest with her hand drawing lazy circles around Millie’s navel and Millie, satisfied, drifted in her warmth toward a restful nap.

The sound of ceramic being thrown into a wooden tray forced Millie to acknowledge the world around her. The glow of her satisfied body made her sluggish, but with a sense of peace, she hadn’t felt since before the war.

Jean was dressed in her sensible suit with her hair back into her severe school mistress bun, but Millie could read the satisfaction in the way her face looked. Before leaving, Jean came to the bed, sat, and cupped Millie’s face with her warm hand.

“I can see you are upset about my hairdo,” Jean whispered and leaned forward. “Don’t be: it was only for you to behold.”

Millie smiled and hooked her arm behind Jean’s neck. A kiss, of course, closed their shared moment. A kiss, why not, promised it wouldn’t be the last.


End file.
